


Extra Scenes from Asdria

by bunnycloset



Series: Seven Levels Below [3]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Outtakes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26278864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnycloset/pseuds/bunnycloset
Summary: When you're writing, some scenes get cut before they're even finished. Some scenes never mature past ideas. Some ideas sit there, fully written and waiting to be published, but get deleted at the last second.These are those scenes, from the Seven Levels Below universe. Basically what I'm saying is that this AU is cool and I find that I am unable to put it to rest. So if you're interested in reading, I demand you enjoy!
Relationships: Mitch Grassi & Scott Hoying, Mitch Grassi/Scott Hoying
Series: Seven Levels Below [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867069
Kudos: 9





	1. Cleo's Dilemma

Sitting at the table of her childhood home, surrounded by her parents, brothers, sister, and assorted cousins, Cleo realized that she had no idea how to explain the last couple of months.

She’d gotten through everything up until they had met the king with minimal questions from her audience, but then she realized, huh. 

How on  _ earth _ does she explain… literally  _ anything _ after that? Without accidentally spilling the beans about Mitch-and-Scott. Scott-and-Mitch. The most  _ in love _ couple she has ever seen, who have still  _ somehow  _ managed to keep their relationship a secret. 

A secret that the entirety of the palace seems to know about. And a portion of the upper city. 

So maybe it’s not as quiet as they’d like, but it’s still not her secret to share. They want to wait until the country isn’t in chaotic turmoil as the government is rebuilt and drastic reform undoes the changes that the rebels had encouraged—and she respects that. 

...So  _ what  _ does she say to the people staring at her, waiting for an explanation how her cellmate had gotten them into the palace and to the king?

“Uh, so then we found the king and explained everything. He let us stay at the palace and Hannah and I met with him a bunch to discuss the information we’d gathered while Darien tried to get more information from other cities.”

“And the king just  _ trusted _ you, hmm?” 

She glared at the smug look on Derek’s face. 

“Yes.”

Watching Derek lean over to whisper very loudly about her making stuff up, exaggerating her importance in everything to Jax made her blood boil. Watching Gia try to stand up for her was comforting, but the arguing just devolved quickly as her family started taking sides and trying to yell over each other. 

The incoming phone call was a relief and an easy excuse to duck out of the room unnoticed while the yelling continued. 

“Hey, queen. How’s life back home?”

Cleo could picture Mitch doodling in the sketchbook that had been glued to his hand since he had gotten home. 

“Not quite as warm a welcome as I had hoped,” she sighed and held up the phone to the open door so Mitch could hear the yelling. His laughter trickled out of the speaker and she pulled it back to her ear. “ _ What? _ ”

“What’s the big problem? They don’t  _ believe you? _ ”

“Nope.”

“Why not? Literally, your story is so ridiculous, there’s  _ no _ way you could’ve made that all up.”

“They don’t find it believable that Scott just let us stay at the palace and believed our information.”

“ _ Why the fuck not? _ ”

“Well…” Cleo sighed. “If you cut out the whole ‘surprise, Mitch is engaged to Scott’, I suppose it  _ doesn’t _ really make sense.”

“Dude, just tell them.”

Cleo blinked. “What?”

“We’re gonna tell the whole country in like a month or two anyways, so just tell them. If they still don’t believe you, put money on it or something and get  _ dat cash _ when we announce it.”

Cleo stared down at the phone in her hand for a second. She stuck it back to her ear. “Are you sure? I can’t guarantee they won’t go trying to tell people…”

“Go for it. We’re not exactly being subtle anymore, LOL.” 

“Did you seriously just say ‘LOL’ out loud?”

“Yes.” She heard him yell from away from the phone to someone else—probably Scott: “Quit laughing at me, bitch!” 

“If you’re sure… Can I call you back in like, an hour? I gotta go reestablish the peace.” 

“Good luck, have fun!”

“Oh, how could I  _ not _ have fun?”

More laughter from Mitch, then a, “Kisses, bye!”

“Bye!”

Cleo disconnected the call and slipped the phone into her pocket. This was gonna be interesting. 


	2. Before

Kirstie was sitting at her kitchen counter, suffering. 

She could not.  _ Deal _ . With these two idiots for much longer. Sure, they were kinda funny and cute, but they were so  _ stupid _ and  _ oblivious _ . They both thought they were so subtle. Well, news flash. They are  _ not _ subtle, they’re just morons. 

Dumbass 1 and Dumbass 2 were trying to cook her dinner in her own kitchen to prove they were  _ not _ incompetent and something else that Scott had said that she couldn’t hear over how hard Mitch had been staring at Scott’s lips when he wasn’t looking. She was pretty sure it was something about her always making  _ them _ chicken nuggets or something when they hung out, but she didn’t care about that. She would make them chicken nuggets for days on end with no complaints if they would just  _ admit they fucking liked each other already _ . 

Mitch was standing in front of the stove, stirring something that… smelled pretty good, actually—while Scott was shredding cheese over another bowl. Whatever they were making must be almost done, considering how long she’d put up with watching them. Or maybe they’d only been cooking for a few minutes and she had already drank more wine than she had thought. She wasn’t exactly keeping track of that though, not when Scott kept topping off her glass and she had to keep watching them do the whole “I’m secretly pining for you  _ hardcore _ and I’m dying because this is so sweet and domestic” staring thing. 

Seriously, if one of them would just turn around a little too fast, they would realize that the other was watching them with a stupid little smile on their face. 

Or—seriously,  _ save her _ —a very… _ intense _ gaze, at least. 

In case that distinction wasn’t clear, she means that she’s caught Scott staring at Mitch’s ass. Twice.  _ Since the cheese has been taken out _ . 

Watching Scott’s face go bright red when he turned around to grab something and realized that Kirstie was smirking at him and wiggling her eyebrows had been pretty funny, though. 

It got kinda sad when they placed the bowl of soup in front of her. Not because of the  _ soup _ —the soup was really good, nice job guys—but because of Mitch. 

They were standing next to each other, watching her take the first few spoonfuls, and gleefully making little comments about  _ see we’re competent we’re so good at this go us teamwork friendship goals  _ etc. Mitch kept trying to slide a little closer to the oblivious Scott. He’d shift his foot and then lean his weight on it so he was  _ right _ next to Scott’s shoulder. His hand slid down the counter until their pinkies were  _ almost _ brushing each other, but he was too afraid to make their hands touch. 

Like he just couldn’t convince himself that he wouldn’t be rejected. 

Kirstie ignored the pang of guilt and sympathy for her bestie and grinned up at the two boys with a thumbs up. 

Scott ladled out a bowl for Mitch before pouring some in his own bowl. Mitch sat down next to Kirstie, and must have just caught the end of her pitiful gaze. 

“What?”

She pasted a smile on her face again and shook her head. “Nothing.” 

Scott sat down next to Mitch, and the topic was quickly changed before Mitch could try to dig for information. Kirstie watched the two laugh at whatever joke she had made and look at each other quickly. 

She’d talk to Mitch sometime soon, try to help him come up with a plan to talk to Scott. Scott’s coronation was only three weeks away, and who  _ knows  _ what would happen then? 


	3. After

And she thought the pining had been bad. 

They  _ knew _ she was on her way, because she had  _ texted  _ them, “I’ll be there in five” and they had responded, “Yaaaaaay!!!” and “Walk faster plzzz”. 

They  _ knew _ she would be at Mitch’s apartment in  _ five minutes _ so they would be on time for their dinner reservation. And despite that, she still. 

_ Still _ . 

Walked in on them making out on Mitch’s couch. 

“ _ Seriously? _ ”

Mitch’s head popped up and she  _ almost  _ laughed at the startled expression on his face combined with the red lips and disheveled hair. 

“Oh, hi Kirstie!”

Scott’s head craned up from under Mitch so he could chip in. “Hey!”

She rolled her eyes and dropped her bag on the counter. “We have to _go_ _to dinner_ now, guys. We don’t have _time_ to sit and have another _how to cover your hickies_ lesson now.” 

At least they had the sense to look apologetic. 

Mitch crawled off of Scott and they started trying to fix their hair.  _ That’s _ when she groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “Where are your  _ pants _ , Mitch?”

It was a _good_ _thing_ Scott was king now, ‘cause there was no way they were gonna make it to their reservation in time. 


	4. A Secret

Matt let the door click shut quietly behind him. “So… we  _ aren’t  _ telling Scott about that, right?”

Kevin looked up from where he had his head resting in his hands on the makeshift desk. They were still in Alluvia during the Duke and Duchess’s trials to ensure that none of the rebels in the city tried to intervene because of their apparent habit of interfering in the justice system. Meaning, Kevin got to be the one calling Scott every couple of hours to update him on everything that had happened while Scott tried to juggle a crumbling government structure, the familial disaster that was his parents committing treason, and of course, _Mitch in the_ _hospital having surgery for getting shot_. 

“Not a chance. Ethically, this is not that great, but he does  _ not _ need anything else to worry about.”

Matt nodded. Kevin had the authority to access the documents with the Duke and Duchess’s confessions, as well as the shooter himself, so if he decided Scott would not be finding out, then he  _ would not be finding out _ . 

“Should we… tell Mitch?”

Kevin crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Maybe. When we get back, I’ll ask him if he wants to know about the shooter. It can be up to him if he wants to know who it was.”

Matt rubbed his forehead. “This sucks.”

Kevin laughed heavily. “What does? The fact that Scott’s parents tried to have their own son assassinated, the fact that the shooter was Scott’s ex, the fact that he chose to shoot _Mitch_ _instead of Scott_ at the last second, or the fact that we aren’t telling them?”

“All of the above.”

“Indeed.”

Matt leaned against the wall. “What  _ are  _ you gonna tell Scott then?”

Kevin shuffled through a stack of papers and held out a stack to Matt. “I’ll just say something vague about the shooter missing Scott or something. He’s preoccupied with Mitch right now; he probably won’t push for more information at  _ least _ until we get back.”

“I cannot  _ wait  _ to go home.” 

“If you can get those reports filed, we’ll be one step closer.”

“Yay.”

“They aren’t  _ that _ bad,” Kevin gestured to the tall stack of reports  _ he _ had finished. 

Matt just rolled his eyes and started towards where he knew Ben and Ryan were waiting in the other room. “I would rather run errands for Esther than file more reports at this point.”

He could hear Kevin’s voice teasing him as the door swung shut. “That can be arranged when we get home.”

_ Ugh. No thank you. _


	5. Afternoon in the Garden

If Scott could help it, he was never getting up. Putting a hammock in the grove of trees in the garden was the  _ best _ idea he’d ever had. He’d been nervous about it at first, but Theresa had liked the idea a lot when he mentioned it to her. And as she’d pointed out, there really was no reason for him to be nervous about it anymore. Not with the security upgrades on the roof proving very effective over the last five months. 

Besides, as far as he was aware, there hadn’t been any attempts to reform the rebellion since his parents’ arrests. And yeah, that wasn’t a great reason not to worry about it, but he was perfectly content to not stress about it. (Much.)

Days like today were the ones that reminded him of how great of an idea it was. Sunny, warm, thankfully not as humid as it had been last week. Today was a Saturday too, so he’d already finished everything he needed to get done before he had laid down to enjoy the Great Outdoors under the shade of the trees. 

He had one leg hanging off the side of the hammock, resting lightly on the ground so he could swing them gently and hopefully keep Mitch asleep as long as possible. 

There had been a showcase at Lambert Studios last night that Scott hadn’t been able to join Mitch at, due to his obligation to actually  _ attend _ his meetings and a press conference. Scott had gotten a long night of sleep—Mitch had gotten a long night of partying and had reportedly gotten home around 4. 

Needless to say, Scott hadn’t been surprised when Mitch had joined him in the garden, walking up to him and relocating his book to the ground to make room between Scott’s arms for his body. For how exhausted he seemed to be, Mitch had maneuvered himself down on top of Scott quite gracefully before smushing his face into the center of Scott’s chest. 

Now, Scott had his arms draped over Mitch’s back, holding him to his chest and listening to his soft snores as the leaves rustled above them and the hammock rocked gently. 

Looking down at Mitch’s relaxed face, Scott couldn’t remember a time when this hadn’t been the definition of the word “peace” to him. Had there really ever been a time when this hadn’t been his reality?  _ Before _ Mitch? 

Announcing their engagement to the country had really just solidified his opinion that he was  _ actually _ the luckiest person in the entire fucking country.  _ World _ . 

They’d waited until the Senate had finally been reassembled and restarted before he had made the announcement. Scott had estimated that it took about four hours for Mitch to start getting other marriage proposals. Esther had, at his request, showed him some of the best fan accounts. Which he had followed, because  _ of course he wants to join  _ (anonymously)  _ the  _ many _ people losing their minds over Mitch _ . Number one Mitch stan, right here. 

Scott had been a bit surprised at how little the number/intensity of people losing their minds over his fiancé had bothered him. Sure, there had been that little prickle of  _ well what if… _ But he knew he was being ridiculous. Mitch wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was he. Obviously. 

Scott took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t mind napping, too. As long as no one tried sneaking cute pictures of them to make the shippers lose their minds. Again. 

_ Kevin _ . 

Scott  _ did _ end up drifting off eventually. He also ended up saving the picture of them sleeping in the hammock together after finding it on Instagram later that week. Mitch could roll his eyes over his “sappy nature” all he wanted, but it was  _ cute _ . 


	6. Sexy Lady

“Is there a lucky lady waiting back at the palace for you, then?”

“Uh…” Scott forced out a trained interview chuckle. This was  _ not _ something he wanted to talk about. Why was this a question? How was this related to anything about the Senate? As in, the actual subject of this interview. Fuck, what was he gonna  _ say? _

Deflect and be vague: the politician’s greatest tactic. 

“Well, there are  _ many _ dedicated, hard-working women on the palace staff. They’re all quite wonderful, and I’m very pleased with the diversity we’ve begun to better integrate into the government staff. I wouldn’t necessarily say any of them are  _ waiting _ for me, though.” 

_ Aaaaaand, top it off with a wink and a big grin _ . There, perfect. No answers that would expose Mitch or confirm the rumors of whatever the media decided his sexuality should be—

“Oh,  _ alright _ ,” the woman laughs and flips to another note card of hopefully more  _ relevant and important  _ topics to discuss. Of course, she couldn’t leave it at that though, could she? She turned to the camera and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, “Hear that ladies? You could have a chance yet!”

She said it like it was some impressive, mind blowing idea she had come up with. Scott had to fight a cringe so hard he was  _ sure _ that it must’ve showed on his face at least a little. At least she wasn’t trying to ask about the “controversial proposal photos” of his supposed marriage proposal to Kirstie like a year and a half ago. 

Everytime he thought people had forgotten about that, he’d see it circling the internet again. He was pretty sure that Mitch had some secret Twitter account or something that he used to randomly remind people about it so he could get a laugh out of Scott grumbling about it again.

He survived the rest of the interview and managed not to say “um” too many times—you’d think he’d be better at impromptu public speaking after this many years literally being prince, then  _ king _ . 

Esther seemed fairly satisfied with the interview, although she did make a snide comment to some of the production team about prying into peoples’ private lives that she hadn’t  _ quite _ managed to hide from Scott—so he figured it was mostly a success. 

With a little bit of luck, Mitch wouldn’t see the interview and he would be teasing-free. Somedays, Sassy Grassi was… better to be kept away from Avi so they couldn’t team up against him. Mitch didn’t typically watch interviews or anything unless Scott asked him to—he usually said something about having “the real thing whenever I want” instead of having to get the “special media edition Scott” instead. 

Of course, it didn’t work out quite how he’d planned. He’d finished the rest of the workday. Sent a billion and a half emails between him and a few Senators who were backing a new bill that they would be discussing in the Senate on Friday. Met with an ambassador from Hydennui and had a surprisingly engaging conversation about corporate company emissions and pollution control. Played piano for a while after dinner and hung out with Matt and Nicole. 

He was returning from the library, two books tucked under his arm for reviewing and updating old documents tomorrow. Mitch was sprawled out across his bed when he walked into his quarters, wearing one of Scott’s  _ favorite _ outfits—just his boxers—scrolling through something on his phone. Scott went to put his books down on the table and join Mitch on the bed,  _ ideas _ starting to pop into his head, when Mitch turned and grinned at him with a dangerous gleam in his eye. 

_ Oh no. _

“I’ve been laying here,  _ waiting _ , for  _ so long _ for you to come back.”

“Uh, sorry?” What kind of opening line was that? Scott set the books down slowly and toed his shoes off. He was kinda nervous, now.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any ladies waiting for you, but here I am. A  _ sexy _ lady, if I do say so myself, waiting in the palace for you.”

Scott pointed at the smirking Mitch. “Don’t start.” It came out less demanding and more… whiny. Oops. 

Mitch just turned his smug little face back to his phone and hooked his ankles together. “But you  _ do _ agree that I’m one  _ sexy  _ lady, right?”

Scott huffed and stalked over to flop next to Mitch on the bed. “Yes.”

“Is there a chance I could get that in writing? Candice showed me the clip over lunch in the studio, and I bet that you would draft a formal declaration if I asked. Not to share, or anything, but for like $5. We’d just hang it on the wall or something.”

“...In the studio?”

“Yeah.”

Scott stared down at the wide expanse of bare skin on Mitch’s exposed back and bare thighs. Mitch wasn’t looking at him, was still scrolling through Tumblr, probably. But  _ something _ about the image was—convincing. But he would have to get up and go  _ all the way _ to his office for the form. 

“What’s in it for me?”

Mitch glanced up and casually said, “How ‘bout a blowjob?”  _ How  _ did he say it so straight-faced?

Well, not very straight. 

“Tempting, but not a usual form of currency, I think.”

“Could be if you wanted it to be. For us.” Mitch was already turned back to his phone. 

Whatever noise just came out of Scott’s mouth wasn’t a word. It could maybe be interpreted as a sound of interest or excitement, but a little strangled. The corners of Mitch’s mouth twitched up. 

“I’ll go get the paperwork.”

This was  _ not  _ the kind of conversation he had been expecting from his self-preservation-induced distraction and diversion technique brainstorming session this morning. No complaints from him though; he’d take it. 

Actually, if he was lucky, he might  _ give _ it later. 

_ Hehehe _ .


	7. In the Middle of the Night

“Scott? Are you awake?”

“...”

“Scott?”

“ _ Mmmh? _ ”

“Scott. Wake up.”

“Uh uh.”

“Scott—“

“Ow!  _ Mitch! _ ”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean—I was aiming for your arm!”

“Why am I awake?”

“Because I’m  _ bored _ and I can’t  _ sleep _ .”

“Not my problem. Good night.”

“Noooooo—“

“Stop  _ poking _ me!”

“You always poke  _ me _ !”

“Tickling is different than being a bully.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Well then beg.”

“...now there’s an idea.”

“Mitch, it is  _ 3 in the morning _ .”

“So? You wouldn’t be sleeping over at our apartment if you had anything to do tomorrow. Today, I mean.”

“I hate your logic.”

“But what about my  _ idea? _ ”

“Too early. Sleeping time.”

“ _ Fine _ .”

“...Oh.  _ Oh _ . Actually, yeah. Yeah, I can sleep later.”

“No! Hands off.”

“What do you  _ mean _ ,  _ hands off? _ I thought you wanted—“

“Too late. You missed your chance.”

“What, so you’re just gonna sit there and jerk off?”

“Yeah. Ugh,  _ yes _ .”

“Mitch,  _ please _ can I just—“

“Nope.”

“Grrrr—“

“ _ Ah _ , feels so good Scotty—“

“Oh, shut up.”

“Oh,  _ Scotty— _ “

“You know what? Two can play at that game.”

“...oh fuck.”

“Oh,  _ fuck _ .”

“No, I don’t care. Not looking!”

“Right. Me neither.  _ Mmmm, _ Mitchy—“

“You’re an ahh—asshole, Scott.”

“Mhm. Love fucking your ass. Wish I could fuck you right now.”

“ _ Hrngh— _ “

“Didn’t quite catch that, Mitchy. Sorry I forgot, you  _ don’t  _ want me to remind you how good it feels when I stick my cock your ass. How tight and warm and full it feels to have me sliding in you—“

“Shut—shut  _ up.” _

“Sure.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Oh  _ fuck fuck fuck Scott _ —“

“...”

“Fucking—Scott  _ please _ —“

“Please what?”

“I don’t—I don’t know  _ please just something _ —“

“Nah.”

“ _ Please! _ ”

“You said no touching. I’m being good. Are  _ you _ being a good boy?”

“Fuck you!”

“I think that would still qualify as touching, Mi—Mitchy. You look  _ so _ fucking sexy right now.”

“Well then do— _ do something about it please please— _ “

“I’m not gonna do  _ anything  _ about it. I’m gonna stay over here— _ ugh, yes _ —and think about how I would just  _ love _ to get my mouth on you.”

“What—what would you do?“

“Lick my way up your neck. Color in some of those roses on your shoulder with some hickies. Nibble my way across your scar—make you shiver because you’re  _ so sensitive _ there.”

“I hate you—oh my  _ god _ .”

“Whatever you say Mitchy. You look a little tense there. Are you getting close?”

“N—no.”

“Right. Well if you’re interested in knowing,  _ I’m _ getting pretty close. Turns out— _ ah shit that’s good _ —thinking about you all sprawled out under me is pretty hot. Or you on top of me, fucking yourself on my dick. Rolling your hips nice and slow—“

“ _ Fucking fuck fuck Scott— _ “

“—and making yourself come all over. You gonna come all over?”

“ _ Yes yes yes please _ —“

“Oh yes—fuck _ Mitch! _ ”

“ _ Scott Scott oh my god fuck  _ Scott!”

“...holy  _ shit _ , Mitch.”

“...”

“Need a minute?”

“Mhm.”

“Take your time. I’ll grab some tissues.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Can I clean you off?”

“Mhm.”

“...”

“...thank you.”

“‘Course.”

“... _ Nooo— _ “

“I’m coming right back. Just throwing the tissues away, see?”

“...”

“ _ Oof _ —careful! I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“‘m  _ fine _ .”

“You can breathe okay with me here?”

“Mhm.”

“...”

“...”

“You don’t think Kirstie could hear anything, right?”

“ _ Why _ .”

“I’m just saying! Her room is just down the hall—“

“Don’ care. Sleep.”

“Okay, okay. Good night, Mitchy.”

“Nigh’.”


	8. Just One of Those Moments

Sometimes, Mitch had those moments where he just had to sit and think about how weird and incredibly amazing his life was. Right now was one of those times, when he just had to stare at Scott and do his best to blink back his tears before he started crying in a fancy restaurant.

They were sitting on the rooftop patio of some place with a name that Mitch couldn’t really pronounce, sipping at whatever stupidly expensive, delightfully alcoholic drinks Scott had ordered, when Mitch was slammed with the realization that he was sitting across from the king, sitting across from his best friend, sitting across from his Scott, who had just had a session with a tattoo artist to get  _ Mitch’s own fucking design tattooed onto his arm _ . 

He thought he’d managed to avoid the waterworks when he’d survived watching Scott bask in the warm, golden hour light—he would  _ never  _ get used to that—but then the sun set and the tiki torches set around the perimeter were lit and started glowing and reflecting in his hair and shining in his eyes and maybe it a little too shimmery and Mitch  _ might _ be a little watery-eyed—

“You okay?”

Mitch giggled as a rogue tear slipped down his cheek, not making it all the way to his chin before it was wiped off. “Yeah. Just happy.”

Scott smiled and his heart just about stopped. “That’s good, I suppose.”

Mitch nodded vigorously and sniffled, trying to convince his eyes to chill out in case the waiter came back soon to replace the free bread they were probably going to ruin their appetites with.

His life was crazy. But it was so perfect.


	9. In the Aisle of a Thrift Store

He wasn’t  _ trying  _ to eavesdrop. It just kinda…  _ happened _ . 

It’s like that thing when queer people see each other in public and they’re like  _ Queer Person!!! Me too! Gay buddies! Friend!!!  _ You know. Sorta like dogs. It was just like a natural reflex; his metaphorical dog ears swiveled when he heard the words “gay” and “party” in the same sentence. 

He paused from where he was screeching shirts on metal hangers down the racks and tried to subtly turn his head so he could listen in on the phone call in the next aisle better. It really was just his luck though that the topic of the call seemed to change as soon as he clued into the subject. 

He tried to turn his attention back to the clothes in front of him, but his attention kept wandering back to the subject of queer party life in the lower-city. He’d tapered off that part of his life for the most part since meeting Scott, as his increased time in the upper-city— _ especially _ since he moved to the third level with Kirstie, and then moved into the  _ palace _ with Scott—made a regular nightlife a little less practical. 

He kinda missed it though. 

There really wasn’t much gay stuff in the upper-city, was there? He frowned at the sweater he was picking at. Since Scott had really started pushing LGBTQ+ stuff, people had lightened up in the upper-city, but not a ton, had they? Little pride flag stickers on businesses proclaiming themselves as safe spaces and workplace and school education programs were really the extent of it, social-wise. Mitch couldn’t think of a single community center or pride event in the upper-city, at  _ all _ . 

Hmm, he should mention that to Scott. If he was even remotely interested in legitimately taking on the traditional “queen” job when he and Scott got married, Mitch would probably be responsible for it himself. 

But like, no thanks. He had his own life, and politics weren’t for him. 

The upper-city, and probably the lower-city too, would definitely benefit from having more visible queer culture. As much as the internet made finding friends and a safe place easier, being able to see actual  _ physical _ support signals would be nice. Down here on the sixth level in one of Mitch’s favorite little thrift shops, he could flip through the racks of clothes and find a wide variety of t-shirts with funny queer slogans on them, or pride flags printed on them—let alone the literal section of the store that sold second-hand binders. 

Mitch jolted out of his stupor when he realized there was a person next to him. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

He blinked down at the sweater that he must have been staring at for  _ quite _ a while, and back at the tall person, probably about his age, standing next to him. “Yeah, thanks. Sorry, I just kinda got lost in my own thoughts.”

The person smiled knowingly and offered their hand. “Vena, she/they.”

“Mitch, he/him, usually.”

Vena shook his hand and set her hand back on her hip. Mitch noted their long, acrylic nails. They kinda reminded him of some of the ones he’d seen Nicole rocking a while ago. He bet Nicole would love them, and also probably Vena’s short black pixie cut.

“Can I ask what had you so deep in thought? I feel like I could use some serious intelligent conversation right now; I’ve been so busy with plans and friends for a while.”

Mitch nodded and dropped his hands from the sweater. He wasn’t really finding anything he was interested in, anyways. “I was just thinking about how queer culture is so different in the upper-city and the lower-city. Like, down here, everyone is so open and expressive. But up there, everything is so much more serious. Still accepting, generally, but very... professionally?”

Vena tilted her head and nodded. “I haven’t really been up there all that much lately, but I totally get that. I feel like people from the lower-city are just afraid to go be openly queer up there, and people up there would be too afraid of the lower-city to come and be flamboyant down here.”

Mitch felt a smile light up his face. “Yeah! There’s so little intermingling that people really just don’t work together to blend the two different groups.”

Vena chuckled. “This is such a weird conversation to be having in an aisle in a thrift store with a stranger.”

Mitch shrugged. “I’ve done weirder things. Do you wanna talk some more over coffee? Not like a date thing,” he backtracked quickly with a giggle. “Sorry, I’m not very smooth, am I?”

Vena grinned. “I’ve got no complaints, so far.”

They ended up sitting in a Starbucks down the street, clutching at stereotypical iced coffees and enjoying the chill from the air conditioning that the warm streets didn’t quite match in the middle of summer. 

“So,” Vena started. “Where are you from that you know so much about upper-city  _ and _ lower-city queer life?”

Mitch leaned back. “That’s turning into a long story, believe it or not. I grew up on the seventh level, but my fiancé grew up in the upper city. I ended up moving to the third level with my best friend a little less than a year ago, and then I moved in with my fiancé on the first level about a month and a half ago.”

Vena’s eyes bugged a bit at Mitch’s explanation. “You live on the  _ first _ level? And not to assume, but with a male fiancé?”

Mitch nodded. “Yeah. If you woulda told me three years ago that this would be my life, I would have laughed in your face.”

They nodded solemnly. “I would not be surprised.  _ Wow _ . That’s just… wow. I’d love to see more representation from the upper-city. I wasn’t aware that people were that open about it.”

“Well,” Mitch shrugged. “We aren’t super open about it. We’re planning to be, within like, four or five months, I suppose. But for now, the people who know are pretty much just all our friends and family.”

“All your friends and family?” Vena raised a delicately shaped eyebrow. “As opposed to…?”

Oh. Oops. That wouldn’t quite make sense as a civilian, would it?

“My fiancé would probably turn some heads if he publicly announced that he’s engaged to someone with a dick. There’ve already been rumors circulating since he started advocating for LGBT rights.” Oh, how he’d missed the casual crudeness that was so fondly accepted in the lower-city. 

Vena snorted. “I’m assuming by your vagueness that he’s a name I would recognize? I’m not asking. But hypothetically if he  _ was _ , I can personally assure you that there are many,  _ many _ people down here who will be  _ ecstatic _ when you announce it.”

Mitch smiled down at his cup. “Yeah. I can’t wait. He’s nervous about the reaction he’ll get from the upper city, but I don’t think he’s concerned whatsoever about the lower-city. And he’s barely been exposed to queer life down here at  _ all _ .”

Vena tapped her gorgeous nails on the table. “Well, if you two are interested, I happen to be hosting a party at The Illusion on Friday night next week. For the sixth anniversary of equal marriage. We’re putting strict rules in place for no phones or cameras, so anyone can come and not have to worry about being outed accidentally.”

Mitch’s mouth dropped open. “That’s really considerate of you. Both the whole, “no phones” and the inviting us. I’ll talk to him; it sounds really fun!”

Vena grinned. “I hope to see you there! Not to cut this short, but I’m meeting some friends in a few minutes, and I really have to go.”

Mitch stood with Vena. “It’s been great meeting you!”

“You too. If you come to the club, make sure you come say hi!”

Mitch walked with her to the door as they began to part ways. “I will!”

_ If Scott isn’t interested _ , Mitch figured as he walked back to the city elevator with a newfound spring in his step despite the lack of shopping bags on his arms,  _ I’m sure Kirstie would come with me if I could convince her to reschedule her date night. _


	10. The Red Stilettos

Mitch hadn’t really known whether or not Scott would be interested in going to the party at The Illusion, but he had been hopeful. He should have known better to open the conversation with the classic, “Hey, can we talk?”, but his immediate panic and attempt to backtrack over his words had just made Scott laugh and tug him back against his chest. 

Scott had definitely been interested in Mitch’s thoughts on more public LGBTQ+ events around the upper-city. Mitch had still been nervous while attempting to casually mention the party, but Scott saw straight through him. 

“You wanna go?”

Mitch had shrugged and picked at his nails. “I mean, it sounds fun—”

“Great. Then let’s go.”

Mitch’s head had shot up. “Really?”

Had he ever mentioned how pretty Scott’s eyes were? “Yeah. Why not?”

“Well… what about if someone takes pictures, or if you don’t like being down there, or—”

“Are you trying to talk me  _ out _ of doing something you  _ want _ to do?”

Mitch had shrugged and tried to fight back the smile that wanted to creep up on him at Scott’s calm, unconcerned attitude. 

“I literally have the speech written out already, so as soon as we get the Senate reestablished, I can make the announcement. And you know I would go with you even if I  _ wasn’t _ interested. And I pinky promise I am.”

Mitch had accepted Scott’s pinky and done his best to let go of his nerves, but now, standing in an alley behind The Illusion, lit only by a chaotic blend of rainbow colors from neon lights bleeding through the darkness and filled with the sound of music booming in the building behind his back, his nervousness crept back up on him. 

“Why am  _ I _ the nervous one? I’ve been here before, I’ve been to  _ lots _ of places like this before—it’s fun! I know I like it! It’s—”

Scott tugged him forward into a comfortingly tight hug. “Are you sure you’re nervous and not just excited and anxious?” 

“No…” Mitch huffed from where his head was tucked into the side of the hood on Scott’s jacket. He had the hood pulled up and covering his face better so that the journey down to the club on the sixth level would stay rather uneventful. “We should just go in, right?”

Scott hummed. “We can if you want. It’s up to you.”

Mitch pulled back and bounced on his toes, shaking his hands like he was trying to get his jitters to fly off them. “I want to, but I just have so much  _ energy _ and  _ anxiety _ .”

Scott, the absolute gentleman, offered, “Do you want me to go in and see if I can get you a glass of water, or something?”

“No, no,” Mitch took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “I’m fine, just—”

A door further down the alley flew open and someone in  _ massive _ heels stumbled out. 

Mitch squinted at the figure through the hazy colored darkness, and felt his train of thought abruptly switch tracks when he recognized the face, despite the long, blue wig covering the familiar bob. 

“Hey, Vena!”

The figure turned and Mitch could see a grin light up on their face and Mitch pulled himself and Scott closer. 

“Oh my god, hi! I was wondering if you were gonna show up! I just ducked out to switch out my shoes for something I could keep dancing in for a while longer, you know?”

Mitch nodded knowingly and glanced down at the red heels he was wearing. Kirstie had given them to him the day they’d met Scott, and he’d never actually had the chance to wear them out at night yet. He’d worn them around work, but now he was  _ working  _ them. “I have no idea how long I’ll last in these before I have to switch to flats.”

Scott offered an arm to Vena as she switched her heels to the flats in her hand. 

“Oh, thank you! That’s so much better!” 

Mitch watched in slow motion as Vena’s head turned towards Scott as she released his arm. It took a second for the recognition to show in her widening eyes, but then—

“Holy  _ shit! _ ” Mitch laughed at the hand they slapped over their mouth. “I mean—I’m so sorry—”

Scott was laughing too, now. “It’s fine. Vena, right?” He extended his arm again, this time for a handshake, which the stunned person in front of them carefully obliged.

“Yes, sir.” Vena seemed particularly intrigued by the eyeliner and smokey eyeshadow Kirstie had drawn on Scott before they left—her date night remaining on schedule in lieu of her accompanying Mitch to the party. 

“I’m just Scott, no formalities necessary. Nice to meet you.”

“Wow. You too! Mitch, oh my god, this isn’t at  _ all _ what I thought you meant!” Vena seemed to have recovered quickly from their shock and was laughing now, too. ”How has my reaction compared to other peoples’?”

Scott pretended to consider it. “Hmm, somewhere between like… the three attempted assassinations, I think.”

“I… really hope you’re kidding.”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “He is. It was only two. Shall we go in?”

Vena blinked at them and snorted. “Sure. Here, come with me so you don’t have to wait in line.”

“Slay.”

Mitch was extremely relieved to find that once he was inside, drink in hand and back pressed against Scott’s chest in a smudged haze of neon-tinted people dancing and jumping and screaming along to the music, he felt calmer. Somehow. 

Maybe it was just because he’d spent so much of his early twenties in places like this, had met Kirstie behind a place like this, had formed so much of his confidence in his identity in places like this. Maybe it was because that last little bit of not wanting to force Scott to come to such a crazy, queer mess of  _ life _ if he was uncomfortable about being shoved off the deep end was a lot easier to banish to the dark corners of his mind when Scott was bouncing along with him and the rest of the crowd to the thumping bass and yelling along with the songs he recognized. 

Whatever it was, Mitch was content letting go a little bit and just living in the moment. 

His favorite part of the night had been when he’d squeezed himself off the dance floor, to get new drinks for the two of them. Scott had slid off to the side of the dance floor to watch Mitch, but didn’t follow him all the way to the bar where the slightly brighter lighting could betray his identity to anyone sober enough to care. 

Apparently at least one person  _ had _ cared, (but definitely had not been sober), because while Mitch was leaning on the bar, watching the bartender pour two monstrosities recommended by Vena named The Penalizer (yes, it must be pronounced  _ that _ way or the bartender was paid to ignore you), some dude seemed to think Mitch’s relaxed posture and easy grin were an open invitation. And of course his attention-catching opening line was, “Did you see that one guy on the dance floor? He literally looks  _ exactly _ like the king.” And then he made a not-so-subtle joke about Mitch “sitting on his throne”. 

Mitch’s uninterested and offhanded “mhm”s must not have discouraged him at all though, because by the time two drinks were being slid across the bar to Mitch, the dude was making some comments about taking one of the drinks off Mitch’s hands. Mitch didn’t really even have the chance to finally tell him to go fuck off, because the possessive fucker  _ deliberately waiting on the other side of the room _ seemed to have lost his patience first. 

It was a damn good thing the first thing Mitch registered was the smell of Scott’s hair products, rather than the mouth on his and the body briefly pressing him up against the bar counter. 

Scott leaned back and pulled his drink out of Mitch’s hand and took a sip, glaring a little too defensively at the dude staring at them in shock. No words were exchanged between any of them, simply a smug tint to Scott’s expression and a heavy eye roll from Mitch before he was dragged away from the bar and back into the depths of the crowd where Annoying Dude couldn’t see them anymore. 

Mitch let Scott have a few minutes of holding Mitch’s hip tightly with his free hand and puffing his chest out at anyone who glanced over at them. Eventually, he dragged Scott down so he could yell in his ear. 

“Are you done yet?”

Scott looked way too innocent as he yelled back to Mitch, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mitch let Scott’s hand resettle on his hip and turned his head away. He was  _ not _ going to let Scott have the satisfaction of knowing that Mitch thought it was  _ kinda _ hot. Scott was always so supportive and boastful about how much he loved Mitch, etc., but the jealous, protective Scott was… a fun change for this occasion. 

There was no way Scott  _ didn’t _ know Mitch thought it was funny and  _ okay fine _ definitely hot, but Mitch wasn’t gonna let him try to  _ start _ anything out of it. At least until they were home. 

Which is why they ended up making out against a wall in the back hallway near the bathrooms until Scott pushed Mitch off him and announced that they should go home for  _ bedtime _ . Which he also seemed to think was funny, considering that it was barely midnight. 

So Mitch groaned and put up a fake fight, but let Scott drag him out of the club after a brief goodbye to Vena. He pretend-grumbled all the way back to the palace about how Scott better make it up to him, ( _ somehow _ , hehehehe), but made sure Scott knew he wasn’t actually complaining by unabashedly leaning on Scott to take some of the weight off his aching feet. 

He really needed to work on building up a tolerance for dancing in heels again. 

It seemed like maybe their visit to The Illusion, or just clubs in general, would probably become at least a semi-regular thing though, considering how fun they both agreed to having. Both at the club  _ and _ when they got home. 


End file.
